Waking Up with a Purr

Leo’s eyes fluttered open, slow and heavy, like lids coated in honey. A soft, fuzzy feeling bloomed in his chest, a gentle hum that wasn’t quite a sound. He blinked again. The room was bright, too bright, but it wasn’t the fluorescent glare he’d imagined with the dancing doctors and nurses in their sparkly, tickly costumes. This was softer, warmer. He felt a tiny ache, a dull throb right around his mouth, like he’d nibbled on a very sour lemon. But it wasn’t the screaming, sharp pain he’d braced himself for. It was more like a whisper.

“Leo?” A voice, familiar and soft as a worn blanket, floated into his awareness. His mom. He managed a small grunt, a sound that felt a bit like trying to blow a dandelion puff through a straw.

“Oh, sweetie,” his mom murmured, her hand cool and gentle on his forehead. “You’re awake.”